


Priorities

by neocitybynight



Series: Into the Idolverse [1]
Category: K-pop, NCT (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Virginity, Smut, idolverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neocitybynight/pseuds/neocitybynight
Summary: You and Haechan have been friends since SM Rookies, and there's always been something there, but you've never acted on it. An SM Town Concert and a glass of shitty champagne might be just what you need to push you over the edge.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Reader
Series: Into the Idolverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965241
Kudos: 50





	Priorities

It’s late, and you’re trying (and failing) to get drunk. You swear SM is diluting the champagne at tonight’s SM Town Gala - probably to prevent any drunken idol mishaps that could end up on Dispatch - but it’s doing nothing to calm your frayed nerves. There are so many big names here tonight, all mingling and chatting in the hotel ballroom, and for your freshly-debuted, chronically tired ass, it’s _a lot._

So this is how you find yourself on the balcony of the Plaza Hotel, stuffed into a crushed silk wrap dress, clutching a glass of shitty champagne. A cool breeze whisks across your bare shoulders, and you shiver a little. “Cold?” you jump and turn, to find none other than NCT’s Haechan standing beside you.

You feel a flutter, a little zip of heat, in your stomach as you look at him. It’s been a while since you’ve seen him - though you trained together and were very close during the Mickey Mouse Club and all of that, you fell out of touch after his debut. A blur of schedules and dry Kakao messages has been the bulk of your relationship for the last few years.

The first thing you notice is that his hair is long, and his makeup is light, which makes him look older, more mature, somehow. Dressed in a crisp duotone suit, with a red silk tie around his neck, he looks like heaven on legs. A far cry from the little boy named Donghyuck who loved snapbacks and pulling your pigtails on SM Rookies sets. _He looks like a real idol._

“Hi,” you say, bowing demurely, as you’re supposed to, to a more experienced singer.

He nods, and for the briefest of moments, something like hurt flashes through his eyes, but as he leans against the glass railing, arms thrown carelessly over the edge, his body language is nothing but casual.

“I was thinking about SM Rookies today,” he says. You look at him so fast your neck bones crack and you nearly get whiplash. _Are you so delirious that you voiced your thoughts out loud?_

“What about it?”

“You, me,” he says, and your heart skips a beat. “Mark, Jaemin, Jeno, Lami, Hina and all of them.”

"Ah,” you say, taking a sip of champagne. “Yeah, those were the days. Sock-kicking games, relays, Leeteuk’s dad jokes...”

“It was just simpler, wasn’t it?” Haechan says, and you look at him, surprised to hear the hint of a sigh in his voice. “There were no fans or concerts or galas, hell, my hair was black. Can you imagine?”

“Isn’t that what we were working for though?” you say. “We worked our asses off, trained until like 4 AM every day, slogged through SOPA so we could have a chance to perform for our fans. That’s what all makes it worth it.”

Haechan grunts noncommittally.

“What’s bothering you?” you say, placing your champagne glass down on a little end table. Maybe it’s the light alcohol buzz or the adrenaline of the night, but you’re feeling bold, and it’s like some part of your old rapport, your shared childhood, is falling back into place. “Haech- _Donghyuck._ Something’s clearly bothering you, are you going to tell me or just pout?”

He looks at you, surprise filling his eyes at your usage of his real name. “I don’t know, I guess I’m just feeling restless,” he says. “NCT 2020 is coming up and I...you know, I was born in 2000. And somehow two decades have passed and I’ve barely noticed, and so it’s made me think.”

“About what?”

“Life, death,” he says, then laughs. “Priorities.”

“More priorities than learning choreography and putting on a show for the Czennies?” you tease.

Haechan laughs darkly. “That’s exactly it. I’ve been working for so long, training since I was little, I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot of things. Big things. So, like I said, priorities.”

You nod, an uneasy feeling in your chest, not only at his clear dissatisfaction, but also at how true his words ring. Sliding a hand over, you place a hand on his arm, squeezing lightly. He stiffens, looking down at your hand like he’s been branded. A warm feeling creeps up your neck, but you don’t pull it back. Something flutters underneath the quiet awkwardness of the moment, a piece of shared past, maybe, the memory of long nights in the practice rooms and long days in the tv studio.

“What are your priorities, then?” you say. “Besides a killer debut, winning just about every award in the K-Pop world, capturing the hearts of millions.”

He looks at you, really looks, and for a crazy moment, you think his eyes flick down to your lips. Leaning forward just a bit, he opens his mouth.

“Hey, Hyung.” You jump apart, and find Chenle standing behind you. “Just talked to a few of the older idols, you’re wanted. Well, we all are, apparently there are some big Dream fans in the house.”

As he talks, he looks from you to Haechan and back, and his eyes narrow, but Haechan nods, stepping slightly away from you. “Of course,” he says. “I’ll be right there.”

Chenle nods, giving you a curious look before giving you a respectful dip of the head and walking away. Haechan looks back at you, and you can see the slight heat from before dancing in his eyes. “Meet me at midnight, room 823,” he says quietly. “If, you know, you still want to know about my priorities.”

With that, he walks away, leaving you, still cold and still sober, alone on the rooftop. _What the hell was that?_ you think, draining your glass and looking out at the glittering city skyline. But you know exactly what it was, question is, do you want to pursue it?

☾

The elevator is too bright, the music too peppy for midnight, but as you swipe your keycard and lean back against the cool metal wall, you barely notice. It’s like the last ten years is on fast forward in your brain, flashes of training, SM Rookies, variety shows, all floating to the surface, with one common thread: Haechan.

You hope you weren’t mistaking his implication as you knock softly on the door marked 823. Hope that the feelings simmering in the pit of your stomach, the ones you’d furiously pushed down and nearly forgotten about until tonight, when you saw him crooning that ridiculous love ballad onstage, when you’d heard him sound so small, so tired, on the rooftop, weren’t just in your head.

The door opens, and Haechan appears. He’s changed out of his formal clothes - the fact that you’re still in yours is only made mildly embarrassing as you take in his sweats and slouchy Michael Jackson t-shirt. “Hi,” he says, a small smile curling his heart-shaped lips. “Come in.”

You step into the room, feeling like your heart is beating out of your chest as he closes the door behind you. Casting around for something, anything to look at, you take in the details - the impersonal furniture, the small vase of lavender roses, the little wallflower emitting a soft scent, clean cotton maybe.

“You don’t need to look so nervous,” Haechan says. “I didn’t ask you here to murder you or anything.”

He walks over towards the bed, and your heart seizes, but then he walks past it, and grabs a bottle of makgeolli and two glasses from the fridge. 

“Sit,” he says, flopping into one of the two cushy black chairs, across a cut-glass coffee table.

You do as you’re told, and allow him to pour you a glass of milky rice wine. “Cheers,”he says, clinking his glass against yours before taking a sip.

“Did you just cheers me with wine?” you say, shaking your head. “Okay, maybe you’re onto something with the ‘no life experience’ part.”

“Hey, I have life experience,” he protests. “I just said I have _less.”_

“Oh really?” you say, taking a sip. The alcohol warms your chest, liquid courage boosting your confidence just a bit. “What kind of life experiences are you missing then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Haechan says. “Well, for one thing, drinks with an old friend.”

He gestures between you. “So I’ve crossed that off my list.”

“Glad to be of help,” you say. “Anyway else I could be of service?”

He chokes a little, and you reach out, patting his back on instinct. “Okay, near death with an old friend in the room, that’s two,” you say. “Tell me another.”

Haechan looks at you, eyes a little moist from his coughing fit, and for one, two beats he’s silent. Then he leans forward across the table and kisses you. It’s just a small kiss, a peck really, but something sparks in your chest. As he pulls back, cheeks a little red, you can feel the thundering of your heartbeat in your ears. “What was that for?”

His eyes drop to your lips, then back up to your curious gaze. “You wanted to know my priorities,” he says softly. “That...I guess that was one of them.”

“What, kissing an old friend?” you laugh. “Surely you have Mark for that.”

Haehcan rolls his eyes. “No, you dummy. Kissing you.” 

He stands up, walking around to your side of the table. You stand as well, blinking at him as he leans in closer, hands falling to your hips, lips drawing ever closer. He stops when he’s just millimeters away, eyes asking you a silent question. _This is a terrible, terrible idea, you think,_ but then you’re kissing again and it just doesn’t matter.

You twine your arms around Haechan’s neck, pulling him closer as your lips meet. His lips are a little chapped, his technique a little sloppy, but you don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, he’s kissing you, his hands gently stroking your waist, pulling your legs around his hips as you sink back, scooting onto the glass table.

You smile against his lips as your bodies press closer, sighing a little as his tongue flickers across your lower lip, seeking access. Parting your lips, you let him in, and the twirl of his tongue, combined with the way he’s pressed to your body, his light touches across your waist, steals your breath.

Haechan’s lips wander from yours, kissing down your cheek, neck, and you yelp a little as his teeth sink into a spot just below your collarbone. “Too hard?” he says, a little panicked. “Sorry, I, um, don’t do this much, I kinda thought girls liked neck bites?”

You look at him, at the nerves clearly showing on his face, for once he’s not in his arena, and it’s cute. “I do,” you say, hands smoothing through his shaggy hair and he shivers, just a bit. “I think? This is kind of new to me too, but it...didn’t feel bad. Just ask me first?”

He nods. “Sorry.”

You respond with a kiss, a little harder, a little faster this time, and you feel his breath hitch as you tug lightly on his hair. He leans into you, hands gripping you tighter, and you’re pleased to feel the brush of something hard against your thigh. Grinding your hips up a little, you feel him shudder against you. 

You’re not inexperienced, by any stretch of the imagination, you’ve pretty much done everything except actual, you know, sex. It’s not a big deal or anything, but you’ve just never found someone you really wanted to do it with. Until now, with everything warm and soft and falling into place so neatly.

You’ve got a hunch that Haechan is the same level of experienced, maybe even less so than you, as you awkwardly shuffle your way to the bed. You nearly bonk your head on the headboard as you fall back and Haechan’s knees crack, rather loudly, as he crawls over you.

You reach up, drawing him down to you, legs bracketing his hips again, and think, _so this is what a little kiss can do._ Haechan moans against your lips as you roll your hips a bit, as you sweep your hands down, up under his t-shirt. His skin is warm, soft, and his abs contract as you brush your hands over them. “Can I?”

He nods, and you push the shirt away. He blushes a little, caging in, like he wants to put the shirt right back on. “I have a baby belly,” he laments. “They’re always saying so.”

“Shh,” you say, placing a finger to his lips. Taking one finger, you trace down his chest, around one pec, then the other, flicking a nipple with the back of your fingernail, making him hiss. Then you trace downwards, skimming his belly, before teasing into the waistband of his sweats. “I like it.”

He bites his lip. “Can you-I mean, would you be okay if I-”

You nod, and he gently reaches behind you, drawing down the silky fabric of your dress. Pulling it down, you kick it off, leaving you in just your bra and panties. It’s a bland set - black cotton, you weren’t expecting much out of tonight - but the way he looks at them, lust and hunger now eclipsing his nerves, they might as well have been a firetruck red negligee.

“Wow,” he breathes, and you giggle. 

“What, never seen a topless woman before?”

“Ye-” he shakes his head. “Yes, but not this close, and not...” he blushes again. _“Not you.”_

The last part is said so softly, you think you might have misheard it, but then Haechan leans down, kissing you again, and it all flies out of your head. His lips press against yours, more urgently, one handing kneading your thigh, the other fumbling with the clasp on your bra. His hand is shaking so much you think you might need to just sit up and put him out of his misery, but then he finds it, and the fabric slides off with ease.

Haechan pulls back again, looking down at your breasts. “If you say wow again I might kill you,” you say. “They’re just breasts.”

He hums, and then drops his head, drawing one nipple into his mouth. He sucks lightly, tongue doing something around the tip that draws a moan, visceral and involuntary, from your mouth. He looks up, and smiles a little at your look of pleasurable surprise. Then he begins sucking in earnest, tongue laving your skin, sending warmth shooting to your lower belly, and you have to give it to him - _he’s good with his tongue._

It makes you wonder what it would feel like, running across your inner thigh, lapping at your clit, thrusting within you, but you’re getting ahead of yourself. Switching sides, lavishing attention on your other breast, his hand slips down your thigh, one finger ghosting across your panties.

“Is it okay if I finger you?” he says, voice a little muffled against your breast. He doesn’t look at you, as if afraid of his bold request. You whisper a yes, and he draws your panties down. “I haven’t done this much, so tell me.”

“Tell you what?” you say, a little breathless.

“How to make you feel good.” Haechan slips a finger inside you, and slowly, almost too slowly, draws it out again, the friction sending heat to the gradually building knot in your stomach. “Like that?”

“Yes,” you say, and he takes that as encouragement. Pressing one, then two fingers into you (you hiss a little at the stretch, but encourage him to keep going), he slowly begins to pleasure you. His fingers curl in and out, stroking you towards an unfamiliar high. Your heart beats fast, your ears rush with blood, your legs shift a little, rustling the sheets as your hips bow up into his touch. Haechan takes this as encouragement, moving a little faster, and then, unexpectedly, his fingers curl up into your g-spot.

With a small cry, you feel the knot in your stomach snap, and then there’s heat in your face, neck, between your legs, and pleasure filling up every inch of your body. Looking down at Haechan, you find him looking at you, eyes wide and intent, watching you, slick fingers hovering just above your thigh. “Did you just come?” he says.

“No, there was just an earthquake,” you say, though the post-orgasmic bliss takes the edge off your teasing. “Five on the Richter scale.”

“Only five?” Haechan pouts. “That’s disappointing.”

You shrug. “Roll over. I bet _I_ can get at least a 7.”

With a snort, Haechan lets himself fall, rolling over onto his back as you straddle him. “Six, at most.”

“You want to bet?” Your hands are quicker on his pants, pulling them down, discarding his briefs before taking him in your hand. He’s not much bigger or wider than average (granted, your knowledge of dicks is pretty limited) but the fact that it’s Haechan’s is all the matters, as you lean down, pressing a kiss to his tip.

Haechan gasps, which turns to a full moan, low and lewd, as you take him in your mouth. One hand gripping the base, while the other holds his thigh, you begin to bob your head. Hollowing out your cheeks, letting your tongue lie flat against him, you pleasure him. His moans grow steadily higher, his hands gripping the wine-colored coverlet, his legs tighten with the effort of not thrusting into your mouth. 

“You can move if you want,” you mumble. Haechan moans, thrusting into your mouth a little too enthusiastically, causing you to gag as he hits the back of your throat.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” he says, looking down, and nearly comes at the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You drop your head, taking him even further, and his babbling becomes a moan. You move your head faster, and gently, oh so gently, he begins to thrust up into your mouth. It’s not much longer before he hisses out: “Fuck, I’m close,” and then your mouth floods, rather suddenly, with a warm, salty liquid. 

Pulling back, you reach for a tissue, turning your head to the side as you spit lightly. A light residue remains, enough for you to know what cum tastes like, and to know that, yeah, you really have to like the person a lot to swallow.

Throwing the tissue into a nearby bin, you look back at Haechan. He stares up at you, eyes half-lidded and glassy. “Wow,” he says, but it’s so reverent, so deep and rumbly from his chest, so genuine, that you don’t even call him on it.

Sliding down next to him, you tangle your legs with his, sliding one arm up over his torso, finger brushing one of the few hairs on his upper chest. It reminds you of the way you’d sometimes lie as children, all of you, really, would sometimes just take a break, exhausted in the practice rooms, huddling together like small trainee penguins, but this is something different. 

You press a kiss to his chest and he makes a noise, deep in his chest, a kind of purr. His hand flicks over your hip, and he looks up at you, eyes dark and shining, and then he rolls over you and you’re kissing again. For a while, that’s all you do, skin on skin, hands stroking every which way, the energy palpable.

Haechan pulls back, hand gripping your thigh a little tightly, and you feel his hardness against your leg again. “I-” his breath catches in his throat. “We don’t have to do this, but I...”

You look at him, at the face of the boy you grew up with, who you grew to like, to hate (not in a real way, but in the way everyone wants to fight him sometimes), the hints of the man he is and will become. You want all of him, you realize, and the thought burns your chest. “I do,” you whisper. “I’ve just never done it before. I don’t want to...”

He draws back. “Oh, oh, it’s fine, me neither, uh, yeah, I would never-”

“No, I mean, I don’t want to disappoint you,” you say hurriedly, face heating. “I’m afraid I’ll be bad or something.”

Haechan laughs a little. “You could never. Trust me.”

He reaches to his bedside table, pulling out a condom from his wallet (the wrapper is so shiny you know it’s a recent acquisition) and then there’s no more talking, just him fumbling to put it on, and then he’s positioning himself over you, guiding his cock forward. You gasp a little at the stretch - despite him working you up before, it’s a tight fit - and he pauses, letting your body adjust. You nod, and he slides further in, eyes closed, until he’s fully seated. 

When the stretch has faded, the small burst of pain when he entered you a memory, you reach up, hands sliding to his shoulders. You pull him down, sealing your lips together, and he begins to move. It’s a little odd, a little painful at first, but as you breathe out, as he adjusts his thrusts based on your reactions, your fingers digging into his back, pleasure soon begins to bloom in your lower belly. Whispering words of encouragement against his lips, you soon begin to raise your hips, meeting his every thrust, creating a delicious friction that sends both of you into a frenzy.

Haechan’s thrusts become faster, sloppier, your moans become higher, breathier, your thighs trembling as your orgasm begins. With a cry, Haechan drives one last thrust home, just as he bites a spot right over your breast, and then you’re gone too. “Ah, fuck,” you moan, face smashed against his shoulder as you hold him, pleasure washing through your body again for the second time that night. “Fuck, Donghyuck.”

He breathes back your name, your real name, not the silly one SM gave you at the age of twelve, and it sounds so natural, it feels like you’ve been saying it forever. With a hiss, he pulls out of you, taking off the condom and tying it off before tossing into the bin. He settles beside you, and on instinct, you roll over, wrapping your body around his like he’s a body pillow, or a really big teddy bear. 

For a while, you don’t talk, just quietly cuddle in the darkness, listening to the traffic rumble by outside. Then he speaks. “We’re so fucked, aren’t we?”

You press a kiss to his shoulder. “Why?”

“The no dating rule,” he says. “We’re not allowed to look attached, not at all. Imagine how mad everyone would be if they found out that we...”

He trails off. “I don’t know. I mean, I want this, I want you, and based on how tonight went, you want me too, but how?”

Something in your stomach clenches. He’s right, of course - SM would kick you out and drag you through the mud if they found you were involved in any way besides being label-mates. But you allow yourself to bask in the afterglow, in the warm, dim light of the hotel for just a little bit. “I don’t know,” you say. “But can we not think about it tonight? For tonight, let’s just be you and me, not idols, not celebrities, just us. Can you give me that, at least?”

Haechan is silent for a moment, then he nods. “I can do that.”

He rolls over, pulling you to his chest, holding you so close you can feel the heat rolling off his body, hear his racing heart, smell the musky banana sweetness of his skin. _Wait, banana?_

“Haechan, did you buy scented condoms?” 

His eyes shoot open, and he hurriedly scrabbles to the edge of the bed, pulling out the foil wrapper which you now realize is yellow. “Fucking Jaemin,” he curses. “I didn’t have any, and I asked him for one. This is called ‘Banana Split-Her,’ by Durex.”

You let out a giggle, which turns into a full on laugh and then a hysterical cackle. “God, you think you’re having a wonderful first time, after a killer concert, with the idol boy of your dreams, and then...bananas.”

Haechan chucks the wrapper aside, mouth twisting like he ate a sour lemon, before flopping onto his back in defeat. You laugh for some time, then it peters off, devolving into giggles, before you fall silent, hiccuping slightly. “So...” Haechan says. “I’m really the idol boy of your dreams?”

“Yes,” you say. “But if you tell anyone, I’m telling them about the banana condom. And that you’re the little spoon.”

“Then I’m telling them you drool in your sleep.”

“Hey!” You whack his chest. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ll just have to find out,” he says, and promptly pulls your arms around him, making you the big spoon again.

“What about your roommate?” 

“Oh, he’s otherwise engaged,” Haechan says, a smile in his voice. “Believe me.”

“Ah, I’m glad,” you say. “Guess this whole SM clown show has actually been worth something.”

He just hums.

“Oh, that reminds me, were you really singing to me during the SM Town concert today?” you say, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

“What, when we were singing that BoA song?” Haechan laughs. “No, I was flirting with a fancam.”

“Really?”

“No, you dummy,” he says. “I was looking at you. Always have. Always will.”


End file.
